


Boredom

by ultharkitty



Series: Combaticons on Charr [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Combaticons are stuck on Charr, and Vortex is bored.</p><p>Set between scenes during ‘The Five Faces of Darkness’.</p><p>Beta'd by naboru :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boredom

Leaning against a stub of wall, Vortex scuffed the ground with his foot. “Well,” he said. “This sucks.”

Blast Off didn’t condescend to respond. He lay on the brushed steel floor of what had once been a public building, but which was now roofless, looted and empty. A low fuel warning had begun to ping seven joors ago, and was still pinging. He should shut it off – there was no energon left, and no means of procuring more - but he couldn’t quite summon the will.

“Frag, I’m bored.” Vortex prised a chunk of concrete from the wall and lay it on his open palm. He raised his hand to his optics as though aiming.

“Don’t do that,” Blast Off snapped, but it lacked bite. Even speaking was an effort.

“Do what?”

Blast Off sighed and turned his face to the stars. At least Charr had no cloud cover, not any more. The galaxy glimmered, scattered lights shimmering from horizon to horizon. Each blazing sun flickered, so hot and real. Too bad he’d never get up there again.

The knowledge came in waves, like the pulse of the low fuel warning. He thought he’d got used to it, then some new input would register, and it would hit him all over again: this was where they were going to die.

Still, the false promise of the stars was better than listening to Vortex. His mock-innocence grated. Especially now, as he took aim and flicked the lump of concrete out of his palm. There was a clang, and Swindle’s helm appeared above the crest of a mound of rubble.

He waved his fist. “Frag you, you psychopathic moron!”

Vortex snickered. He was so easy to entertain.

Blast Off huffed, the chill air seeping in through his vents, clutching at his laser core. He shifted, uncomfortable, and caught Swindle’s expression. He fought the smile that tugged at his faceplates, and lost.


End file.
